


Yuletide Epilogue

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Benedicta was safely back on that boat to Rome.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yuletide Epilogue

It is nearing midnight, the witching hour, in the longhouse. Llud has gone “to check on the night sentries” but Arthur and Kai both know that he is really calling on Olwen and won’t reappear until daybreak. They sit slumped on opposite sides of the hearth, watching the rowan logs crumble into powdery ash, sharing the last of the ambrosial wine that Yorath sent as his Yule gift.

 

Kai glances at Arthur and feels a knot of dismay grow sharply in his chest. His brother looks so young and vulnerable and ethereally weary. The bruises on his face and throat are starting to turn a dull reddish-purple. Leni had had to cut a large clump of his hair close in order to properly clean his scalp wound and impatiently, he had told her she might as well finish the job. Now his hair stands up in short feathery tufts all over his head. He resembles nothing more than a newly hatched chick, all wide eyes and soft fuzz. That ruckus in the stable had been far more brutal than either cared to admit. Kai is exhausted and the bumps and cuts on his body are starting to smart and burn. Tomorrow, he knows, his muscles will be so rigid and taut that all movement will be painful.

 

Blinking back tears, Kai stretches his stiff shoulders and puts down his empty goblet. The chink of metal on wood rouses Arthur from his reverie. “Oh”, he says more brightly, “in all the high dudgeon and fury of the past days, I neglected to give you your Yule present.” Kai grins wryly. “I don’t think we’ve exactly been feeling generously toward each other.” “No, but here, this is for you. I’ve had Llud secreting it away for months.”

 

Arthur crosses the room and pulls a heavy object, solicitously wrapped in soft crimson red cloth, from out of Llud’s weapons chest. Crimson, the colour of atonement and humility. “How appropriate” thinks Kai ruefully.

 

Smiling Arthur hands it to his brother with a flourish, sits back down and waits in anticipation. Kai carefully unwinds the cloth and then stares, completely bedazed – on his lap lays the most beautiful weapon that he has ever seen. It is a Saxon war axe, the blade made of high carbon steel and mounted on an ash handle. It is ferocious, barbaric and wondrous. Kai feels the sharp tang of salt prick behind his eyes. To think that his fiercely Celtic Arthur, who has so often ridden roughshod over his Saxon affectations, has provided him with this…………………..”Dear God”, Kai berates himself inwardly, “I have wept so many tears lately that I could easily make the river at Sarum overflow.” He blinks furiously.

 

“It is the most extraordinary gift I have ever received and it will be the most treasured and cherished.” Kai’s voice is rough with suppressed emotion. “I know how you sometimes feel about my Saxon heritage, that I can be reckless and flaunt it. He tenderly caresses the axe’s smooth haft. “Thank you Arthur for this token of trust.” Arthur swallows hard against the huge lump that has inexplicably risen in his throat.

 

Thoughtfully Kai weighs the axe in his hands and then looks up, a spark of propitiatory amusement shining in his brown eyes. “The thing is, little brother, I had quite a marvellous gift for you too – a sword belt of the most elaborate design, all burnished black leather and intricate iron links.” He grins sheepishly. “But when all this business with Benedicta blew up and then seemed to be getting so out of hand, I got angry and somehow lost it in an unlucky game of dice.” Arthur bursts out laughing. “All your games of dice are unlucky Kai.”

 

There is a short expectant silence. The fire crackles. The candles flicker. Suddenly serious, Kai gazes steadily across at Arthur. All the amusement has fled from his face and instead, he looks regretful and contrite. “Yet it means that I have no gift to give you in return.” For answer, Arthur crosses the hearth, kneels in front of Kai and gasps both his hands like a supplicant. His words are uttered so softly that Kai has to lean forward to hear. “But the gifts you continually bring to me, Kai my heart, are far more precious than anything fashioned from the most exquisite metal.” This time not even Kai can blink away the uprushing tears.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Llud stumbles in the darkness and almost falls through the longhouse door. He has had a lovely visit with Olwen. They had toasted each other generously in warm honeyed mead and canoodled dreamily in front of the fire – until one of her children woke, fretful with a fever and it became obvious that all romanticism had fled for this particular evening at least.

 

The candles and rush lights have burned low so Llud is careful as he makes his way across to the bedroom. All of a sudden he halts, momentarily stunned. There, by the door, hanging among their usual entanglement of weaponry and cloaks, is Kai’s new axe – the one Arthur had so excitedly handed him months ago with strict instructions to keep it well hidden until Yuletide. A huge grin splits Llud’s face. So the making up is complete. Good! He could use a quiet life for a while, to enjoy familial harmony and Olwen’s charms. Noiselessly he opens the bedroom door and slips inside. Then his face darkens again. Kai’s bed is empty. Arthur lies breathing quietly across the room, among a great mound of warm fleeces and blankets, his newly cropped head just visible. But of Kai there is no sign.

 

Llud sighs. More mending and healing to be done on the morrow. Another stupid quarrel to resolve. Damm Benedicta……………..Oh well, life was not meant to be all apple blossom and foxgloves. Kai has no doubt found himself a cosy berth somewhere else for the night. He glances once again at Arthur, and despite his annoyance, a wave of tenderness washes through him. It is an especially frigid night and his son’s head, bereft of its usual thick black pelt, will be cold. Anyway, that scalp wound is still so raw.

 

He steals to the bedside, meaning to contrive a hood from one of the sheepskins, and tuck it around Arthur’s ears. Llud leans forward – and then his heart leaps in his chest with fright, as frantically as a wily wild brown trout, freshly hauled from a moorland stream.

 

Wedged between Arthur and the wall, Kai emerges suddenly from under a heavy woollen quilt, turning abruptly in his sleep, flinging his leg over his brother and snuffling softly like a contented blonde bear. Arthur instinctively cradles toward him for warmth and the pair subside back into quiescent slumber.

 

Gradually Llud’s racing heart subsides too. Soundlessly he moves across to his own bed, grinning infectiously to himself again in the darkness. He settles himself down for what remains of the night, feeling somehow as if he has finally reached a stormless harbour after traversing the billows of a turbulent sea. As he drifts off to sleep, Llud chides himself gently – “Have more trust in your sons, old man.”

 

The last of the warm logs quietly crumble into aromatic ash.

Outside, an owl hoots plaintively.

Inside the longhouse the Yuletide peace is like a benediction.


End file.
